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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28050357">this night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CompanionLight/pseuds/CompanionLight'>CompanionLight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>EXO (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Betrayal, Changing POVs, Developing Relationship, EXO'rDIUM Opening VCR inspired, ElyXiOn VCRs inspired, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Identity Issues, Infiltration, M/M, MAMA Era Powers (EXO), Moral Dilemmas, Music Video: Lucky One (EXO), Music Video: Obsession (EXO), Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, depends on which perspective, it's complicated - Freeform, this also counts, you'll find out I guess?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:27:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,750</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28050357</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CompanionLight/pseuds/CompanionLight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When the sun sets and the night falls, darkness brings forward even the weakest glimmer, sights that are invisible to the eye during the day become conspicuous in the absence of light. The night also brings forth dreams, a way to escape the world, even for just a few hours.</p>
<p>But for them, there’s no escape. They aren't quite human, but it wears them down just the same, makes them falter just the same.</p>
<p>So Chanyeol notices something weird with Kyungsoo, whom he considers his best friend, and he thinks it has something to do with his nightmares. Kyungsoo could tell him why, Chanyeol would want nothing more than that, but he won't say, for reasons they will both only really know much later down the road. </p>
<p>In the meantime, Kyungsoo struggles with his mission, keeping up a lie and learning to be human in the process, ultimately questioning whether or not he deserves his name and his spot beside Chanyeol.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Park Chanyeol, EXO Ensemble &amp; EXO Ensemble, but actually it's X-D.O/Chanyeol</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>EXODEUX Round 1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>this night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first time joining a fest. Thank you so much to the mods for organizing this! Thank you also again to the mods for being understanding of our requests for extensions, and for reminding us over and over that we own our work and are allowed to do anything with it. That said, as of submitting to this fest, only the first chapter has been done, so please look out for future updates!</p>
<p>This work sprouted from Prompt ED22. Thank you to the prompter! I'm afraid I changed it just a tiny bit to suit what I wanted to write, but otherwise I absolutely <i>love</i> the prompt. I was so surprised no one had claimed it before me. The prompt had an optional SeBaek but I opted out because I only know how to write Chanyeol ships for now. OTL</p>
<p>Anyway, that's all for now. I'll see you guys at reveals!</p>
<p>Unbeta'ed. Happy reading nonetheless uwu (12-14-2020)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> One night what I saw in the darkness </em> <em><br/></em> <em> Was the strange shadow that chased me after </em><br/><em> The turned-on exit light </em> <em><br/></em>It's me looking at myself in the mirror</p>
<p>
  <em> —Obsession </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He jerks from his sheets, eyes flying open in the middle of the night with a breath-stuttering, heart-pounding rush of adrenaline flowing through his veins.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Immediately he folds into himself as he swears repeatedly in his mind that he's awake, that he's escaped the confines of what felt like his thousandth nightmare since he'd started getting them, but the whispers in his ears stalk him, shattering through his mental fortress. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sweat makes his skin sticky, the rapid beating of his heart near unbearable. He sits up and away from the growingly uncomfortable sheets, eyes slinking to the sliver of a view peeking in between the motionless curtains. The whispers seem to grow louder in his ears, increasing in volume, rising in intensity.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His face pinches inwards, pupils trembling violently behind his tightly closed eyelids. Hands shoot up to his ears, short fingernails leaving indents where he digs them harshly, but no matter how hard he tries, he can't block the sounds. He feels as if he’s being driven to insanity. <em> Make it stop</em>, he chants in his head. <em> Please, make it stop. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>By the time the whispers condense into a tinny ring, more silent and yet too loud at once, he finally hears his own heavy panting. The tremble that started in his eyes spreads to the rest of his limbs, warning bells setting off in his nerves, his body knowing he should be doing something but he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know, he <em> doesn’t know</em>. His body can’t take the indecision, the inaction—it <em> needs </em> to <em> move</em>—so in one desperate movement, he tumbles off the bed and scrambles to yank the curtains open. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The illuminated cityscape jumps out against the darkness that swallowed the sky, moon invisible behind the clouds and only a faint light seeping through, yet he can't shake the insistent feeling that he should be <em> seeing something</em>. His heart continues to beat a mile a minute, his lungs heaving, eyes darting, and the ringing unceasing in his head, until his irises refocus and he sees a picture of himself in the glass.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He chokes on a sharp inhale, eyes widening as the ringing crescendos into a halt.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The curtains fall gently against the wall as he steps back, the creases in its fabric evidence of the panic in his shaky hands. Something heavy hangs in the silence, growing. Then, something inside of him <em> clicks</em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He whips around, takes off in a sprint. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The door bangs shut on the lonesome apartment, bedsheets left a sweaty mess and curtains billowing from the man's quick get-away, framing an image of the city with the dark, moonless sky.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hours later, when the stirrings of sunlight cut gently through the window and cast the room in a dusty golden sheen, what steps back inside the apartment is another being entirely.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>🌗🌑🌓</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The walk is routine enough that the neighborhood’s unremarkable scenery fades into the background, creating a buzz that pleasantly occupies his senses. At the forefront of his mind, Chanyeol is more concerned about what they’d be eating later, which puts a minute bounce in his steps, eagerness belying the straight line of his lips and his stern eyebrows. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The monotonous whir in his head spikes at the sight of his destination, an apartment building that looks just as ordinarily remarkable as the area it’s housed in. He peeks from under his cap and does a quick scan of the windows—an instinctive mannerism, a little game of trying to see if he could point out his best friend’s room from among them—before he trots up the entrance of the building, grip crinkling the plastic bag holding the two pints of ice cream he'd bought beforehand. He'd chosen cookies ‘n’ cream this time, even though he knows it would rile his best friend up—or maybe precisely because of it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After a quick nod to the guard by the front desk, he heads straight to the elevator. He hums, a stray melody playing from his lips as he ascends the building to his friend’s floor, and it sounds like the start of something workable so he stores it for later when he gets back to his studio.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The elevator rocks and opens its doors, and Chanyeol makes a turn right towards the room. He loosens the tightness in his lips and between his brows, steps falling into the beat of his newly conjured melody, and the dimple on his cheek shows up now that he’s out of public sight. When he comes up to the door, he raises his fist to knock.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before he even touches the wood, the door swings open, revealing a shorter man poised to leave the room—except he flinches a step back, eyes wide, when he sees Chanyeol.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Kyungsoo!” Chanyeol says, beaming, but it rapidly drains away as his eyes widen at the expense of Kyungsoo’s face, seeing the surprise dawn in it. Just processing the fact that his friend looks about to leave, he turns his head to observe his surroundings, looking for answers where he can't actually see them. “Oh, sorry, uh- were you going somewhere?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Despite asking the question, Chanyeol thinks it weird. Kyungsoo had never once missed out on telling him if he was busy and couldn't accommodate his visit. He hadn’t received any sort of forewarning at all this morning, so Kyungsoo should know he was coming over.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Although, his mind quickly amends, it’s not like Kyungsoo particularly owes him the time, or that this is something to get upset over. He can respect Kyungsoo’s privacy. The blip in the routine was just… weird. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>After what seems like a too-long pause, Kyungsoo says, “Chanyeol.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Chanyeol tilts his head and zeroes in on Kyungsoo’s eyes, drawn in. He doesn’t know if he’s imagining things, but they seem… sharper. Or something. Honestly, Chanyeol feels a bit hypnotized.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Because he was looking at them, he could see the moment something registers in Kyungsoo’s eyes, and Chanyeol himself breaks out from whatever trance he was in as Kyungsoo quickly speaks up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ah, no. It wasn’t- I wasn’t- well, I was going to do something but I figured I could just do it later.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And this, Kyungsoo stammering, is familiar territory. It’s normal for Kyungsoo to trip up on his words when he's flustered, so maybe Chanyeol was just overthinking things, but he guesses it’s the fact that Kyungsoo got flustered in the first place that he’s bothered. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He shakes away the thoughts. It was just as possible that Kyungsoo had a rough night—he <em> knows </em> exactly just how rough his nights could be, he scolds himself—and he had no business intruding upon something he wasn’t comfortable talking about yet. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Plus, he has ice cream, and he doesn’t want it to melt.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Huh, well,” Chanyeol shrugs as he lets himself into the apartment, “you know if you were busy you could have just told me, right?” He lets it hang, not expecting an answer. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The kitchen is his immediate destination, heading for the freezer. The sound of the door closing behind him reaches his ears just as he places the plastic bag down on the counter, but he whips his head back when he sees that the kitchen is, in fact, bare from any signs of cooking. In disbelief, he finds that there’s not even a single grain of rice to be found in the rice cooker. His brows drop into a furrow and he pivots, one hand taking off his cap and the other carding through his brown locks, as Kyungsoo’s footsteps enter the kitchen.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Kyungsoo, you haven’t cooked lunch yet?” Chanyeol asks, hand in his hair moving to scratch at his scalp as his eyes roam the space, looking to see if Kyungsoo really <em> really </em> hadn’t prepared lunch (or brunch, as it was just a little past 10 in the morning) yet. He drops his cap beside the ice cream on the counter while his eyes look around, before they finally lock on Kyungsoo's when he answers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Um, yeah- no, I haven’t, no.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A stammer, Kyungsoo squirming, and the combination makes Chanyeol worry.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He stands there, staring, before he recognizes the nervous ticks in Kyungsoo’s fidgeting. He forgets about the plastic bag accumulating condensation behind him and does what he does best.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In two big strides, he scoops Kyungsoo into his arms. He dwarfs Kyungsoo's form, rocking them both from foot to foot as Chanyeol wordlessly offers comfort. His head drops to the shorter man’s shoulder, cheek digging into the bone, eyes falling shut, his whole body slouching to alleviate the odd angle, and he ignores how Kyungsoo doesn’t reciprocate the hug. He feels Kyungsoo's breathing, feels it like the earth rumbling. Kyungsoo needs the warmth more than he does, and he has a lot to give—figuratively and literally. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Their long friendship has led to Chanyeol figuring out that asking Kyungsoo if he was okay was simply not enough, as the man would just give an answer he doesn’t really mean before shrugging it off. Chanyeol’s learned that the most effective way to give comfort to the man was to just jump right into it. Both he and Kyungsoo like hugs, and if in case Kyungsoo really <em> was </em> fine, "<em>It’s good to just hug anyway</em>," Chanyeol explains in the one instance Kyungsoo had asked. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>So he doesn’t stop rubbing and patting his back—despite the mounting awkwardness—, doesn’t stop nuzzling his face into his shoulder, until he feels the other’s arms moving up into a loose hold. An attempt to return the hug. This, though a small action, puts a smile (impossibly wide and probably ugly, as Kyungsoo liked to joke) to his face. Chanyeol thinks himself handsome no matter what Kyungsoo has said but he schools his expression anyway as he disentangles himself, a big hand finding itself playing with Kyungsoo’s short black hair, the action dripping with affection. He giggles at seeing Kyungsoo’s face contort in annoyance, the most emotion he’s shown today.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll cook for you, okay?” Chanyeol says, tender. It has the desired effect, the corners of Kyungsoo’s lips quirking just that little bit upwards. It goes by quickly but Chanyeol considers it a victory. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kyungsoo clears his throat and shoves past him lightly. “The ice cream is melting.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Chanyeol mumbles an <em> oh shit </em> which rouses a chuckle from Kyungsoo. “It’s alright. I’ll handle it.” He stops by the counter where the pints of ice cream lay. On habit, Chanyeol watches for his reaction, ready to break out in cackles once Kyungsoo complains about the lack of mint chocolate ice cream in the bag.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He, however, does nothing but take both pints out and straight into the freezer. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was such a small thing, but Chanyeol doesn’t know why this out of every weird thing to happen this morning was the one to catch him off-guard.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kyungsoo turns around after closing the freezer door and creases his forehead upon seeing Chanyeol hasn’t moved an inch. “Chanyeol?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh.” Chanyeol shakes himself from his daze. “Sorry. Let me just get started. You have bean sprouts?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And the kitchen descends into a mostly comfortable buzz as the cooking starts, but also partly tinged with a tension Chanyeol can’t quite place. Chanyeol had tried to shoe Kyungsoo away from the kitchen—this was supposed to be “<em>a favor I’m doing for you, Kyungsoo!</em>” and therefore he should stand back and let him do his thing—but Kyungsoo just replied with, “At least let me cook the rice?” which made him relent, because okay, Chanyeol knew his best friend knew he couldn't cook rice, which then led to them settling into the familiar but stilted rhythm now filling the room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kyungsoo chops the vegetables, because of course he is despite claiming to only cook the rice, while Chanyeol gets the water boiling and prepares what meat he found in the freezer. Kyungsoo is methodical and quick, like always, which Chanyeol complements without a sweat and in no time at all they have the table set with a steaming pot of bean sprout soup, two bowls of rice, and a handful of side dishes since they weren’t really up for a full brunch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They compliment each other for the meal while eating. Chanyeol ends up mostly talking about himself without pressuring Kyungsoo to do the same. He knows Kyungsoo’s still shaken up about whatever roughened his night—Chanyeol thinks he has an idea what but Kyungsoo has always been sensitive about the particular subject—so he continues to animatedly recount how his week has been, music projects he’s been working on lately, new hobbies he’s been trying out (painting, but he’s been pretty shitty at it so far), the kind old lady who keeps giving him containers of food as gratitude for that one time two weeks ago he helped fix a pipe leak in her bathroom.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He also mentions how far along he’s gotten in trying to fully control his own fire. He cites Aang and Zuko as chief inspirations.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I wouldn’t have thought of applying water bending techniques to fire, you know? I mean, we don’t really ‘bend’ but I guess the principle would be the same, maybe?" He shrugs, trying to gauge Kyungsoo's reaction but not seeing any clear emotion. "You think I should hang out with Junmyeon hyung more often?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kyungsoo muffles his laugh by chewing on the food and Chanyeol laughs along with him, trying not to make it sound awkward. He ends up choking on a bit of his own saliva, coughing and pounding his chest exaggeratedly as he reaches for his water.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Unfazed, Kyungsoo points his chopsticks at him. “Finish your food and leave. You sound busy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Chanyeol pouts the moment he puts his cup down. “Always so blunt, Kyungsoo.” He sniffs. “At least let me enjoy my ice cream?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They break out the cold confection after having cleaned up the table. Chanyeol’s a little disappointed at the lack of reaction from Kyungsoo even now about the choice of flavor, but he does realize again that Kyungsoo might be too drained to contest it. He feels guilty suddenly. He resolves to bring mint chocolate the following week, even if he won’t like it himself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Chanyeol quickly finishes his own tub and bins it. Kyungsoo puts his own unfinished tub back in the freezer in order to see Chanyeol out the door. The taller man picks up the cap he left on the countertop, pushing his hair back to replace it on his head. He gives Kyungsoo’s shoulder a couple solid taps in goodbye, "See you next week!" and it doesn’t take long for him to be back on the streets, walking without obstacle.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>On the commute back to his place, he wonders why there’s an oddity he still can’t quite place in his meeting with Kyungsoo that morning.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>🌗🌑🌓</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The door closes, the smile falls from his face, and he claims a spot next to the window. He stays there until he spots the other's tall form exiting the building, deceptively inconspicuous from his perch this high up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He hadn’t been expecting a visitor, much less one of <em> them</em>. Nothing that had happened since he'd replaced the paranoid and terrified man that was his <em> original </em> had indicated a visit that was supposedly expected. The cellphone had remained silent all morning, disturbed by nothing but a soft vibration which, upon investigation, was a mail from what seems like his <em> original</em>'s employer. <em> Doh, remember your deadline Saturday, </em>it said. He put the phone down without replying and has received nothing else since.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Which is why seeing… Chanyeol, it made him stumble. The large, radiant smile that had assaulted him upon opening the door had—and he's reluctant to admit this—badly caught him off-guard. More time was spent than he should have staring at a face he’d only remembered as emotionless, clinically empty, almost doll-like (although the same could be said for the rest of them), framed by blazing red hair against a pristine white garb. <em> 61 </em> it said in fine, black print on his collar; <em> 12 </em> was on his.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They all had numbers. That wasn't the only trait they shared. They were, are, all Subjects. From the moment he first became aware of his consciousness, everything about that place had been marked by an immovable, undiluted sense of stoicism. Of impersonality. Much like the cold interior of the place—the laboratory, he amends, with its white walls closed into big, neat quadrilaterals by the red lines that led his eyes both everywhere and nowhere, the company had been just as frostily blank. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>At least not until <em> they</em>, their <em> originals</em>, had escaped. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>However, even in the midst of breaking glass and blaring red lights, nothing had fazed him—them. Glass shattered into their room, a rumble in the ground preceding it, but he had enough hold over his thoughts to recognize that the quaking had not been natural, had been power-initiated, had been caused by his <em> original</em>, <em> their </em> D.O.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The four others in the room with him had flinched, an instinctive reaction to protect themselves, but he had been motionless—he had been <em> busy</em>. He knows it must have been too early in the stages for him to have done what he did, but it's what landed him here, now, earlier than most of the others. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Not that he cared, nor was it any sort of privilege or superiority in ability. It was simply what he was sent out to do, because he was a perfect man for the job. A job that he badly needs to get going on <em> now</em>, he scolds himself, silently scorning the sudden appearance of… Chanyeol. A confusing variable to the equation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He grabs a key and his phone and nothing else as he leaves, once deciding that enough time has passed for the taller man to have left the area entirely. Perhaps he should have been embarrassed, maybe sheepish, for being late to his engagement. That would have been the typical reaction—the <em> human </em> reaction, he guesses—but he’s not the least bit guilty about it, even as he takes deliberate twisting turns on the streets that lengthen his journey to disguise his pathing. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>There’s a distinct lack of concern in his gait as he enters a humble bookstore almost an hour later than he was supposed to be in it, heading straight for the newspaper corner and picking one up after briefly scanning across the different publications. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’s flipped a couple pages to the middle by the time he hears footsteps halting somewhere behind him. Another page of the newspaper is flipped, half of his senses focused on the fine print like a curious, inquisitive bystander would, the other half paying attention to the man behind him browsing the Lifestyle section.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I never took you as someone who shows up late,” the man speaks. He hoists his newspaper higher, making sure it covers his mouth from any CCTV, and only then decides to reply.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t plan to make a habit of it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He turns the page again, seeing nothing noteworthy on the spread. The footsteps move a few steps away, and he recognizes without looking that the other man is pretending to be picking then putting down books while keeping up the conversation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It should be an interesting story then, whatever kept you this morning. Mind sharing?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His grip tightens without him meaning to, so he refolds the paper and puts it back on the rack, picking up something else with a more familiar publication name and better crafted headlines. <em> Planet News </em> does its job decently.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The hesitation only lasts for a second then he says simply, "I met C61's counterpart right at the apartment door."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There's no way for him to gauge the man's exact reaction, only a pause to let his imagination run free with what he could possibly be taking the information as. He distracts himself with big news of a politician's rumored scandal on the page. The headline is cleverly incriminating, deliberate, but the article goes round and round with iterations of third party claims and no real proof nor statement from the affected. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>In his bottom periphery, he catches the man squatting down to check the lower shelves. The glimpse he got showed a casually jacketed back, a grey-toned cap secure on the head, and a masked face. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Definitely interesting," the man says, the sound of flipping pages intervening before he continues, "What's he like?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Touchy. Smiley. Trusting. Animated. Open</em>, his mind goes through the list. In a less flattering manner, he thinks, <em> Underwhelming</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Talkative,” he replies. Then, he loses track of which line of text he stopped at and tries to locate it. His brows knit together. Why is the font size so small?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Said any useful info?” filters right into his ears amidst the jumble of words, and he deems it a lost cause, eyes moving to the rest of the articles. It was fine. The one he was reading was just facetious gossip disguised as sophisticated journalism anyway.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not much,” he says finally. “He said a lot of useless things.”  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The man hums, seeming to toss the answer in his head. At the same time, his eyes lock onto a column in the newspaper, smack in the Features section, where an article talking about the economic impact of a solar eclipse over in some state in America sits interestingly along the inner spine of the page, right in the middle. It isn't the biggest article on the page, in fact it looks as if the layout purposely highlights how it was chucked to the side in favor of the more attention-grabbing ones, but he zeroes in on it instantly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You can't be sure about that." He spies the man pushing himself up with a hand on the floor. "He might be saying something good beneath all those useless things." The last two words are said as if the man didn't believe them. The man takes a side-step closer, and by instinct he takes a step backwards, closer too.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But he's a hundred percent sure that the patch of floor he had just stepped onto had neither been wet nor slippery previously, so his heart genuinely jumps as he loses footing and collides with the man's back, forcing him to crunch the paper in one hand and use the other to regain balance.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In a rush, he swivels to face the man, bowing repeatedly. "I'm so sorry." He doesn't need to fake the embarrassment—and he squashes down the bit of irritation there as well.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Woah, it's okay, man," is the man's reply, as if they haven't been holding a secret conversation the whole time, as if he didn't just <em> ice </em> the floor to make him slip.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He gets a proper look of the man this time, although he sees only the eyes, which are at the same level as his. The slanted monolids and wintry, cat-like eyes—these are eyes he knows.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He bows a few more times in a display of contrite, and the man bows back, eyes crinkling, must be smiling behind his mask, to show that it was fine. They keep up an air of joviality in an outsider's perspective. He offers his hand to show politeness, and the other man reciprocates.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The hand is cold. Their grips tighten in a handshake, and he feels the expected shape of a small plastic pressed onto his palm. The man seizes eye contact with him, "You might unearth some hidden gem from what he says, if you look hard enough." Then their hands fall away. Without permission, his mind conjures a comparison between his touch with the man's cold hand and the… hug he received, from… Chanyeol. He chucks away the weird thought as soon as it formed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Discrete, he tucks the plastic into his pocket the same way he tucks the man's advice into his head. On the outside, they share cordial nods before returning to their spots, the altercation seemingly done.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But as his eyes bound back to the article about the eclipse, he waits for something else from the man's lips. And then it comes, "That drive has everything I've gathered so far."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He hums, eyes slipping down to the bottom of the article, where the author's name is printed, so small it almost disappears with the bustle of text on the newspaper.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Just keep in mind." He hears a book slide off the shelf and then footsteps. "From here on out," the man says, stopping a bit behind him, "you and I are not subjects anymore. You have a name, and outside of this meeting, you know mine."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If he had been facing the man, he feels maybe he would have been sucked into those eyes, warned, cautioned. "<em>That </em> is who we are."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He stares down the name on the paper even after the faint sound of the man's soft voice and the cashier talking fades like a wisp. The ghost of an encounter left behind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Now, there is only the road ahead, and the name on the paper he sears into his head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Article by Doh Kyungsoo, Planet News columnist. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He—Kyungsoo folds the paper neatly then puts it back on the rack. He remembers to avoid the icy, slippery patch on the floor, curses the man—curses Minseok for the... uncool theatric.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kyungsoo burns the minutes browsing more of the bookstore until he's judged that time has passed enough so that no association other than an accidental meeting is pushed onto him and the man—Minseok- the man- Minseok?—by anyone who might be watching.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He leaves the humble bookstore, the musty afternoon air stirring with the amount of people walking around. He—Kyungsoo keeps his head up, and then he disappears into the street's bustle.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>🌗🌑🌓</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The rest of the week Kyungsoo spends going through the files on the drive.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>What he remembers of the man—of Minseok, of the Subject <em> X99 </em> is his neat and methodical character. A stickler for steps. Probably why he was the first in the lineup for infiltration. He isn’t surprised to see the files organized in alphabetized, but coded, folders.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was a thing of fascination. Modern technology of the world has advanced humans to digitize their experiences, their lifestyles. Kyungsoo knew first of a world of supposed “fantasy,” where beings like them and like their <em> originals </em> are far removed from the reality of which humans live in, except <em> that </em> is reality for them, for Kyungsoo’s 'kind' (for lack of a better word), unbeknownst to humans. Despite that, humans created objects even they had not thought to create themselves. Computers, flash drives, cellphones; these are strange objects, but decidedly useful ones from what Kyungsoo knows of this planet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Humans have created rules of their own to develop their world, and now, Kyungsoo plays by those rules while navigating the maze of information Minseok has provided him with.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The little <em> read me </em> text file at the very bottom after the list of folders gives Kyungsoo a roster of passwords that stretch downwards, taking a few scrolls of the mouse to reach the end. He goes back to the line of text up top, reading the words.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> All files are protected in this drive. Use these to access them locally. Commit these to memory then permanently delete this note. I trust that you understand these are for your eyes only. Best luck. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He leans away from the screen, licking at the insides of his teeth. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>This was already shaping up to be a demanding task.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Their brains were built to handle big information, built to perform abilities even greater than that, but it doesn’t make things any more pleasant to endure.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Perhaps the indignation he felt at having to memorize passwords was the most human thing he’s felt so far, though he wasn’t aware yet. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nevertheless, he attacks the passwords, attacks the files once he’s sure the passwords are safe in his head, taking in yet another inflow of data, some interesting, some he already knew. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>There are blanks to some of them. Intriguing unknowns. <em> Oh Sehun a.k.a SEHUN</em>’s location counting as one, <em> Kim Jong In a.k.a KAI</em>’s and <em> Zhang Yixing a.k.a LAY</em>'s occupations another. There are question marks dotting some of the entries as well, and Kyungsoo takes note of them in his head. These are information he knows he would have to be responsible for filling in now that he’s here. Mentally, he pats Minseok on the back for getting this much. Information-gathering was Kyungsoo’s primary mission, not Minseok’s. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He finishes a cursory scan of each person’s profile, lingering fleetingly on his “own,” then moves onto the other folders in the list.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There’s a folder for <em> World Knowledge</em>, Kyungsoo clicks on it curiously.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Inside, rows of sub-folders reflect in his eyes, and he discovers that the bulk of passwords he had memorized are majorly dedicated to this set of files.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He finds another text file. He opens it and reads its contents, a secret swathe of relief at discovering he doesn’t have to delete this one and there was no memorization of more passwords involved.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Instead, he digests the main body of the text.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> I included material here about this world, because I found out that the knowledge we were injected about it in the labs didn’t account for everything. My original, for example, is apparently a fan of basketball and soccer, as well as particular teams in both the local and international leagues, if the merchandise I see plastered on his walls are to be trusted, and so I had to find them out myself. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>You will more than likely have to figure out your original’s own interests as well by combing through his, or your, apartment and other belongings, but I have included as much information as I could fit in here for you. I could have let you do the research yourself, but as far as I am aware, your original works as somewhat of a journalist, so there is a possibility that your research for these things might be tagged as suspicious activity.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At this, Kyungsoo is overcome with an odd feeling, confused but not exactly displeased, at the pure amount of… thought. Minseok seemed to be walking him through a lot of things, things that he knew he would have arrived at himself given enough time, but he finds he isn't… annoyed, by it. Minseok’s reasoning is logical, and he’s always been a thorough man, but for some inexplicable reason he never really <em> expected </em> this much.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ultimately, he stores the sentiment for later.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Hopefully</em>, he continues reading, <em> you won’t have to use much of this knowledge, only to blend in with the humans, or if you somehow need to interact with any of </em> them<em>.  </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Now <em> that</em>, that was interesting. Suddenly, Minseok's attention to his meeting with Chanyeol makes much more sense.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Again, hopefully you won’t, especially with the current set-up now, which is explained in the General Information document. But it never hurts to be prepared. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then the text file ends with something that might be inspiring: <em> You have more time than you think. You can go through these files as slow or fast as you wish.  </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kyungsoo bounces the information in his head as he scrolls through the folders again, seeing labels ranging from sports to cooking to music to botany to photography to TV shows and comics and so much more. He decides right then that he will get to them later rather than sooner, then he gets to the other folders, and finally the <em> General </em> folder.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In more or less an hour, in between entering and exiting folders and documents on the computer and checking his phone, he finishes his initial skim of the whole drive and extracts a few interesting points he is certain of.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gathering information is both easier and harder than he had thought, he has an article deadline for Saturday, and Minseok was right, more than he had initially thought, for questioning Chanyeol's visit, because he should not be visiting him every week at all.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In light of this new information, Kyungsoo starts planning.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>🌗🌑🌓</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The following week, Chanyeol finds himself at Kyungsoo's apartment again, carrying with him a bag of suspicions and mint chocolate ice cream.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Both things are rooted in concern, however, which means he won't be confronting Kyungsoo directly for the weird behavior, because they're friends. And he doesn't want him to retract into his impenetrable shell.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>One bathroom break, lunch, and an arduous dessert session of mint chocolate ice cream later, Chanyeol's concern has only gotten worse. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>From then, he tries to ask Kyungsoo questions that hit closer to the problem, asks about his sleep, how the pills are treating him, how his appetite has been, and somewhere along the way he must have asked something wrong.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Because now, Kyungsoo has him slammed against the wall, and Chanyeol is both grateful he knows to reduce the impact on his head by reflex and worried that the crack that resounded behind him means that the wall might need fixing. When was the last time Kyungsoo lost control of his strength like this?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>More than that, the absolute confusion going around makes Chanyeol's eyes round, hands scrambling at Kyungsoo's, which are buried in the lapels of his jacket.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There's a shaky quality to his voice when he asks, "Kyungsoo, what's- what's wrong?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Stop it."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Chanyeol takes a firmer hold on Kyungsoo's hands, trying to sort through his emotions, afraid of letting the confusion turn into anger.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Stop what-"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"<em>Stop </em> asking, stop butting in where you don't understand, <em> Chanyeol</em>."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And he tries really hard not to, but Chanyeol can't be blamed for the rising indignation and upset in him. He feels fire bubbling beneath his hands, under his skin, and fights it down with everything he can. They are <em> better </em> than this, <em> were </em>better than this.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Kyungsoo, let go of me."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Shut up."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"<em>Please</em>, let go of me."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"<em>Chanyeol</em>."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Kyungsoo, please just-"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then, just like that, Chanyeol is cut off when Kyungsoo leans in, over, into Chanyeol's space, and kisses him right there.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Chanyeol's grip loosens, the fire muddled, and gets his head pushed back by the force of the kiss.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Because, <em> oh</em>, this is uncharted territory.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Again, please look out for future updates. Thank you for reading! I wish you all happy (or at least bearable) holidays. Stay safe and take care of yourselves. (12-14-2020)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <b>Please leave a comment or review. I would love to hear your thoughts.</b></p></blockquote></div></div>
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